


Kinktober Sixth: Admiral Phoenix

by KabochaKitsune



Series: Kinktober 2019 [6]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Aftercare, Animal Transformation, Animalistic, Authority Figures, Begging, Bird/Human Hybrids, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Non-Consent, Crying, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Degradation, Established Relationship, Fear Play, Fight Sex, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Handcuffs, Healing, How Many Tags Can I Tag, Humiliation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Incest Play, Insults, Kairouseki | Seastone, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, LITERALLY, Love, Love Kink, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Military Kink, Military Uniforms, Name-Calling, Ownership, Praise Kink, Punishment, Rape Roleplay, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Sobbing, Subdrop, Uniforms, Victim Blaming, Violent Sex, Virginity Kink, Zoan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 00:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20939285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KabochaKitsune/pseuds/KabochaKitsune
Summary: Ace adjusted his hat. "How does a Zoan user reload a gun with sea prism stone?""I just have to catch you in six shots."-(Mind the tags.)





	Kinktober Sixth: Admiral Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> ...This one got away from me. I'm not sorry.
> 
> [That Kinktober Generator](https://corsetsandlemons.tumblr.com/post/187862017291/the100kinkmeme-hello-soon-will-be-the-holiest), Day 6: Uniforms.

_Ugh._ Marco sighed to himself as he first looked over the stolen clothing. Sighed to himself again once they set down on an uninhabited island and he opened up the little satchel Ace had packed it into. And sighed a third damn time once he had the whole outfit on, shifting uncomfortably in the bulk of it, kicking the toes of the too-heavy boots against the dirt repeatedly.

"Are you actually sure about this?" he called over his shoulder through the trees.

"Come on, Marco." From the excitement in the younger man's voice, Ace was practically _vibrating_. "You promised!"

There went the fourth sigh over all this. He certainly had. He felt like an idiot, but he _had_ promised. Shaking his head, he buttoned the shirt a little higher to completely cover his chest tattoo, took a breath, and stepped onto the (mostly) empty beach with a pistol in hand, aiming for Ace's back.

"Fire-fist." His voice was dark, his eyes narrow. "Thought you'd be harder to track."

Ace just glanced over his shoulder at first, nary a care in the world, as usual. His eyes lit the _fuck_ up when they lit on Marco, though, well before his cocky grin overtook his delighted smile, and Marco felt his entire chest ignite and _soar_ inside.

"Captain Phoenix. Been awhile."

"Admiral," Marco corrected. Easily. It was so much easier to play this role Ace was so fixated on when Marco could _see_ the effect it had on him.

Not that he _got_ it.

_Come on, there's something kinda sexy about Marine whites_, he'd said as they'd slunk into a laundry room at the dead of night. Marco hadn't agreed. Had thought he was crazy. _Just indulge me, okay?_ That, Marco had agreed to, especially when Ace looked up at him from under dark lashes, in that _way_ he had that drove Marco fucking crazy. He knew that Ace knew _exactly_ how he looked when he did it, and that made it both infuriating and even fucking hotter.

"Admiral Phoenix," Ace agreed, jovial, finally turning to face Marco with both hands in his pockets, not a care in the world. "You mistaking me for someone else? You know bullets won't work on me."

Marco cocked the pistol in response. "Sea stone will."

Ace shifted, more on guard, more at the ready. "You're bluffing."

A breeze rolled along the beach, blowing through Ace's hair, the tie of his hat; trailing sand and dust over the closed-toed boots weighing down Marco's feet, making the loose arms of the jacket sway from his shoulders.

"Am I?"

Ace adjusted his hat. "How does a Zoan user reload a gun with sea prism stone?"

"I just have to catch you in six shots."

He pulled the trigger less than a breath after he finished his sentence. Ace went flame in record time and dodged away, the bullet zipping through a single tongue of fire instead of skin.

They weren't really sea prism stone, of course. But they didn't have to acknowledge that out loud.

"Pretty crafty, cornering me out here all by my lonesome." Ace's voice didn't seem terribly concerned, though. "Where's your ship?"

"Ten miles from here."

Ace faltered, just for a second. Then the grin was back, and broader than ever.

"So I've just gotta throw you in the drink and you're fucked, right? None of your mates are close enough by to come help."

"I'd like to see you try."

Another bullet whizzed by Ace's ear, and the Logia user kicked off the sand, charging at Marco like he was a bullet himself, half his body fire and half of _that_ propelling him forward like a rocket, in a blaze that made the quartz in the sand sparkle like glass.

Marco got off two more shots before Ace reached him. One ripped through the brunet's shoulder, _really_ ripped through, in and out with a flash of blood. Marco startled so completely at the sight that Ace barreled into him like a cannonball, knocking him off his feet and sending the pistol spinning from his grip into the sand.

The bullets _were not_ sea prism stone. Had he let himself get hit just for the show? The realism? The _thrill?_

_Maybe it's a clean-cut kinda thing_, Ace had mused while he packed the satchel, keeping the folds crisp, the jacket pauldrons neat. _The chaff just look like chess pieces, I feel kinda bad for them actually._ He'd set the pistol on top, unloaded, and the box of six shots. Marco had loaded the gun himself after dressing. The bullets _were not sea stone_. Was Ace out of his damn mind?

_There's something about the way the officers look, though. Even when you've got 'em rattled, they're **pristine**. I don't know. Pirates look better overall, for sure; different and messy and **free**._ He'd shrugged. _But with the marines... you have to give 'em credit for looking like they did themselves up for some big sweeping production even when you're toe-to-toe._

Marco's right boot transformed like the rest of his clothing as he caught himself, talon dragging in the sand, leaning into Ace with his teeth grit and refusing to go over. Even though the uniform wasn't his, he was wearing it, and so it didn't ignite. Ace's fire had never been able to burn him. Fire was strong, but the mythical blaze of the phoenix was stronger. If toe-to-toe was what Ace wanted from this...

The braids on his pauldrons whipped around with his strike, talons on his fingers and fire along his arm; Ace ducked and then rolled away, regaining his feet at the end of the motion.

And coming up with the fallen pistol in his hand, leveled at Marco's chest.

The blond growled, scowling, pausing. He was still half blue flame and he could take a bullet, but he hadn't quite calculated for this. If they were supposed to be sea stone, how did Ace expect him to act? Sea stone, real sea stone, would render his healing factor inert if the bullet lodged in his body instead of zipping through the meat and back out again like the one Ace had taken.

"So this is fun," Ace grinned, rising from a half-crouch to full height. "I wonder, can you actually kill a phoenix?"

Marco flared to full blaze without even considering, offense pulsing through him and a swan-like hiss issuing from his lungs. Fuck it. He didn't know what act Ace wanted? He'd run this on instinct.

"You can try."

Ace got a shot off, but he wasn't nearly fast enough. Marco sidestepped on mostly-human legs before transforming fully, pelting through the air in a smaller fast-flight form, harder to hit, and pelted into Ace like he, too, was a bullet. At the moment of impact he transformed, twice, twisting through _massive_ phoenix to catch Ace with a batter of fire and feathers and wings and back into human to bowl him over, bear him down with the weight of heavier bones, and caught his hand to twist the gun around, Ace's finger still on the trigger but the barrel pressed right between his eyes.

There was a pause. Ace's eyes were wide with real surprise.

He was also hard against Marco's knee.

"You're under arrest," Marco murmured, half of him still ablaze, blue and gold fire licking along white linen and gold braid. Ace barely breathed as Marco flicked open a pair of cuffs and clapped one around the wrist clamped tightly in his hand. Ace made a sudden sound of disapproval and thrashed under Marco's weight, pulling at the cuff and fighting with not even half his usual strength. Marco pressed the barrel harder against Ace's skin, making the brunet freeze. Leaning his weight to grab Ace's other wrist, Marco let his next words whisper hot against Ace's ear.

"The sea prism's only on the inside." Still lies, but pre-planned lies, yet another of Ace's requests. He yanked the boy's wrists together, cuffed him, and then fired the last bullet into the sand right by Ace's head. The brunet jerked. (That had _not_ been planned. But Marco knew by now that Ace got off on the pretense of fear.) "So you can't try to use it against me." He tossed the empty weapon to the side, letting it thump into the wet sand at the waterline, where the sea lapped at its mechanisms and rendered it both further useless and basically irretrievable. "You're mine, Fire-fist."

Ace managed to screw up his face and spit on Marco's cheek.

"I don't belong to anyone."

Marco's face was back to cool, impassive. He lifted one hand, wiped off the spit with his thumb, and then lapped it off the digit with his tongue. Ace shivered under him.

"We'll see. I've had my sights on you for a while. And I've had enough of you giving me trouble."

Ace thrashed, aiming a kick for Marco's stomach, but the fight was still relatively weak, damped by the "weakness" of "sea stone." Marco caught his ankle easily, used it to simply yank Ace closer along the dry sand of the beach. He didn't bother holding Ace's wrists as he undid the younger man's belt.

"What the _fuck?_" Ace was a good actor. His words, his tone, sounded terribly real. "You're a fucking marine officer! Aren't you assholes supposed to be the good guys?"

"I'm on the side of justice, Fire-fist." Yanking Ace's shorts off was a non-effort. "And justice serves the Gods of Mary Geoise. In case you haven't noticed, those gods are nothing you'd call _good_." Marco's hands were talons when he grabbed at Ace's knees, forced them apart. "Besides. A criminal has no rights. So a marine admiral can't violate them, can he?"

There were tears at the corners of Ace's eyes, panic and _fury_, and Marco nearly paused to check in. But the cuffs weren't real, and Ace hadn't gone ablaze, and there was no indication of safeword or tap-out. And, most importantly, Ace had requested this.

So Marco didn't pause, didn't hesitate before yanking Ace even closer by the hips, unzipping the fly of still bright-white pants, and shoving his cock right into Ace's ass.

The brunet's head threw back, teeth grit over a strangled scream. But he was already oiled up, had prepped himself like they'd agreed while Marco dressed himself. And Marco let his blue-gold fires roll along that little bit of his exposed skin, licking up into Ace's body, tickling against the ring of twitching muscle to ease any injury that had resulted regardless. Ace shook his head subtly, and Marco let the flames abate. A glance down told him Ace wasn't bleeding. Good enough.

Ace liked it rough even when they weren't swathing themselves in cruel play.

Marco pulled his hips back and then snapped them forward, hands tight on Ace's hips, forcing himself in to the root, and Ace's next scream burst out unfettered, his mouth open and his body writhing in the sand. "You look good like this," Marco mused, his voice dark and wicked and _bored_. His hands tightened, still talon and scale, scratching bloody lines into freckled hips. Ace choked on a sound of muffled pain. "You're quite tight. Are you a virgin?" His hips rocked back and _snapped_ forward again, hard enough to jerk Ace's body in the sand, to shove his hips into bladed fingers hard enough for the tips to pierce skin. The next sound in Ace's throat was a sob. "Though I suppose 'were you' would be more accurate."

They hadn't talked about what Marco was supposed to say. Ace just asked him to be despicable, to be like the marines that deserved to die instead of the ones just taken in and doing their jobs and thinking they were in the right. Marco was more than twice Ace's age. He had a lot of foul experience to draw upon.

"Some terrifying pirate," Marco continued, quickening his thrusts, slamming and grinding and making Ace vocalize _something_ with every motion. But his own voice remained cool, lacking any sign of exertion. "What would your crew think if they could see you now? Helpless and crying on a Marine Admiral's dick."

"I'm _not_ -"

Marco slammed in _hard_, harder than they usually went while sober, and Ace arched back and _wailed_.

"Say again?"

Ace shook his head, tears streaming down his face. Marco frowned, but didn't let up. He didn't know what Ace was getting out of this, exactly, but under the picture of torment, the boy's hips shivered, and his cock leaked, and his nipples stood up pertly from his chest.

"Ten miles is a long way," Marco mused, digging his talons deeper, lifting Ace's hips up to his so that when he thrust again, Ace's eyes bugged open and he gagged a noise of horrified despair. "I could keep you like this for a while. Make you my pet for a few days until I drag you back." He thrust against that spot again, knowing from extensive experience precisely where to aim, and the sound that keened from both Ace's mouth and nose at once was pleasure incarnate. "And it sounds like you'd like it."

"Stop," Ace whined, wiggling wholly unconvincingly in the sand, cuffed fists pulled tight against his sternum, nails digging into the heels of his hands. "Stop it. I don't - _ah!_ \- I don't want this!"

"You say that," Marco hummed, bored tone unchanged, grinding against Ace's prostate and wringing a wailing cry up from the depths of his gut. "But I can feel you throb. You can't pretend you aren't enjoying this. I can see how hard you are."

"No..."

"You love this." One hand left Ace's hip, still avian, rough with bird-scale, to circle and lightly pull along Ace's cock. Both cuffed hands snapped up to cover Ace's mouth. "Your body responds so well to being raped, in public, without even preparation or lube." Careful not to touch the actual talon to delicate skin, Marco ground the scaled pad of his "thumb" over Ace's head and hole. The boy arched and whimpered, gushing pre. "This is what you've always wanted, deep down, isn't it? An authority figure to fuck you into the dirt. Teach you your place." A shudder of a moan wracked through Ace's whole body, hands clamped hard enough over his face to bruise, dark eyes rolled back into his head. _Shit._ Marco swallowed hard.

Still thrusting, he took a deep breath, crossed the line into what might be really taboo, eyes locked on Ace's face for any sign of protest.

"I've heard about how your little _family_ had to beat you into submission." His thrusts were slow and grinding, making sure Ace heard every word. "How you tried over and over to kill your _oyaji_ until you let yourself get ground down under his heel."

Ace's eyes snapped open, wide with horror, both hands still tight over his mouth. But there was a depth of terrified, guilty _lust_ in wide-blown pupils that Marco had long learned to recognize. He let himself kiss the tip of Ace's nose, one of their wordless tells for times like this, the promise that Marco wasn't judging him.

"You're so easy to read. You don't want to be a pirate for freedom or glory or daddy's treasure."

Ace jerked. He knew that Marco knew, but his eyes were widening all the same - part of the role play, surely. And his body was _throbbing_ on Marco's cock. Marco had to grit his teeth before continuing.

"You just want to be bad and get punished. You want somebody big and strong and scary to put you in your place and teach you to be a good boy." Ace jerked _hard_ at those last two words, muffled something into his hands that Marco recognized as more or less analogous to _"cheater"_. Marco grinned, trying to keep it from looking bright and adoring. It was actually cute how much praise Ace ate up, but that wasn't today's flavor.

"You don't need an oyaji, Gol D. Ace. You need a _daddy_."

Ace jerked on his cock and _moaned_ into his hands, coming all over himself, Marco's hand, the stolen marine uniform. He throbbed and writhed and cried, rolling up into Marco's firm thrusts, finally taking his hands off his mouth to clutch at Marco's pristine shirt and gasp with every breath. He was still hard. Marco leaned down further and nuzzled against Ace's brow.

"That's it. Let Admiral Phoenix teach you a lesson. Be a good boy."

"Please..."

The desperation in Ace's voice was somehow clearly acting and clearly real at the same time.

"Please what, pirate scum?"

"Please - please Daddy, please Admiral, please _Marco_ let me be good, let me be your good boy, do anything you say, please please please..."

"That's it," Marco growled, nipping at Ace's ear, neck, jawline. "Tell me all about it, slut."

"_Your_ slut," Ace promised, arching, grinding himself up into Marco's thrusts, which were quickly ramping up to _brutal_. "Wanna be a good son for Daddy, good pet cabin boy for my Admiral, let you cut me up and heal me any way you want, be the Phoenix's little human pet, just teach me, keep me, love me, please love me..."

"I love you," Marco promised, real, thick, rasping into Ace's ear, and Ace _wailed_ as he came, hard and crying and clutching, wringing a long moan and a rush of fire and feathers and a hard, heaving, gushing orgasm from Marco's entire body.

They lay there for a long time, coupled together, sweating and messy, Ace crying and clinging to Marco like a limpet, Marco soothing sweet words into Ace's ear, petting his hair, running ignited fingers along scratches and gouges and tensed muscles.

This wasn't the first time they'd done something like this. Not the first time they'd played with consensual rape. Not the first time Ace had called him _Daddy_ in needy tones. Not even the first time they'd played - cautiously - with the name _Gol D._, murmured at Ace being the son of the former pirate king. Pressed just as cautiously beyond that into both of them being sons of the _future_ pirate king.

This was the first time they'd combined them like this. Certainly the first time Marco had allowed himself to be nearly this cruel. Wearing the mantle of the navy gave him access to all the hideousness that begot, let him drop all the barriers and really let Ace _have it_, and he wondered, now that they were done, if it really had been about the uniform at all. If Ace found the Marine Whites attractive in the least, or if he'd just wanted Marco to emotionally tear him open.

As the sobbing ebbed and Ace's words slurred instead into _thank you_ and _please_ and _love you_ and _don't pull out yet_, Marco supposed it didn't matter. Ace had gotten what he wanted either way.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to support what I do? Find me on other sites through my [carrd](https://kabochakitsune.carrd.co/)!


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